The Umbrella Civil War
by Kompressor
Summary: Internal problems cause the mighty Umbrella to split into conflicting groups. What does the future hold for them, and just how do the STARS and HCF fit into the fighting? Please R & R; will be updated as often as possible.
1. I

A/n: I would like to separate my story from the similar ones written on this site. While I thought that I was writing a new, unused storyline, I just recently discovered stories that, unfortunately for me, have plots that are comparable to, and probably much better than, mine. So I just wanted to let readers, and the authors of these stories, know that no, I haven't (intentionally) copied any stories in any way. Also, please leave a review if you can. I always appreciate them.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Really.

**The Umbrella Civil War**

Context Time: Pre-Spencer Mansion Incident; Location: Cleveland, Ohio; Headquarters for White Umbrella; Hour: 2137

"For God's sake, Alfred, why must you always be so stubborn?" A venerable man slammed one grizzled fist onto the top of the large, circular table at which he was seated as he demanded this question of a younger colleague who was seated to his right. Simultaneously, this elderly man, who was known only as Gables, traded subtle glances with the three other gentlemen in the room, who were seated to his left, even though his query was addressed to the lone man on his right.

All four of these men, Gables and the three individuals to his left, were obviously at the top of the social class. Their mannerisms alone, from the way they dressed to the impeccable way they spoke, practically shouted the word _aristocracy!_ These four men were also obviously very close. The way they made similar decisions and jumped to the same conclusions would have made an outsider believe that they could communicate telepathically. However, their close bond was a result of over forty years of working together.

The man on Gables' right was none other than Alfred Ashford. Although he also gave the impression of being a part of the nobility, there was a marked difference in the way he and the four other men acted. Alfred was not as culturally or socially refined as his older partners, but the biggest and most noticeable difference between him and the other four were their ages. While Gables and his friends were all in their late sixties and possibly their early seventies, Alfred could not have been older than twenty-eight.

"Because, my dear Gables, it is the mere principle of the argument. Apparently you four have banded against me, and still wish to implement your decision, rather than mine, even though our policy requires a _unanimous_," and he put strong emphasis on the word, "decision from the Board members." As Alfred spoke, with a slight grin lingering on his lips, giving off an arrogant impression, he noticed that he was getting nowhere with his argument. This caused him to sigh.

The five total men in this room were the leaders of White Umbrella. White Umbrella was a private division of the international corporate giant Umbrella, Inc. Founded in the early sixties by the Ashford and Spencer families, Umbrella manufactured everything from medicine to car engines. Alfred Ashford was the sole director of this large company because no members of the Spencer family existed, and his own family was not fit to lead. His father was so heavily infected that he was insane, and his sister was still in stasis in her frozen state.

On the other hand, Umbrella, Inc. was only a front for this White Umbrella, which was created by the Birkin family, along with the Ashfords and the Spencers. White Umbrella was dedicated to viral research, genetic engineering, and other illegal affairs. However, unlike its parent Umbrella, White Umbrella was not controlled by a single man, but a Board of Directors. This Board was made up of the prominent Umbrella supporters, which were Gables, Franklin, Magnus, Beaumont, and of course, Alfred himself. And in order to make changes or advancements in the company, the Board had to have a unanimous vote from all five members to ensure equality. Getting Alfred to agree with Gables and his friends was a rare occasion.

"Principle or not, what you request is completely unnecessary, not to mention impulsive. Why should we bother to spend enormous amounts of our hard-earned money to create new Bio-Organic Weapons when the ones we have are not perfect yet? We can have the scientists in the Spencer Estate shift their efforts into increasing the T-Virus/Bio-Organic Weapon compatibility." Gables kept tapping his fingers on the gilded wood top of the round table as he fired questions at Alfred. Embossed in the center of the table, and reaching to the edges of it, was the large red and white Umbrella symbol. However, this particular version of the well-known symbol had a pair of white gloves imprinted in the center of the umbrella, which represented White Umbrella.

"By any chance, Mr. Gables, do you know who our only competitor in the field of genetic weaponry is?" Alfred said this with a slightly lower voice, as if he knew a secret that he was keeping from the others.

"Of course I do, it is the H.C.F. Corporation," Gables replied in a slow tone, as if pondering the question deeply.

"Exactly," confirmed Alfred. "Once they discovered that we had already started testing our precious T-Virus on our creations, they immediately started trying to develop their own virus. Their front is a chemical company, thus ensuring near unlimited supplies for their research. Their virus, I am inclined to add, is nowhere near finished, and probably will not be as good as ours."

"And that is precisely why we should not rush ahead of our schedule," interjected Magnus. "Our funds here in White Umbrella are very strained right now, and since our only competition is failing, why bother throwing away money?"

"I know just where our budget stands as of now, Magnus. You must be forgetting that it is I who leads Umbrella. But the reasons I want to advance our weaponry are because of the short amount of time due to our new competition, and, more importantly, because of my top scientist, William Birkin. He is in the process of developing a G-Virus in our Raccoon City labs, which he promises to be far superior to our T-Virus. With new Bio-Organic Weapons, we will have new mediums in which to utilize this new virus." After finishing this small speech, Alfred sat back in his chair, convinced that he had displayed his point properly.

"You just said that Birkin is still developing this new virus. Why build new creatures when we do not even know if this virus will be successful? We should just improve the designs of our modern weapons, and then test the virus on them. I think that is a more sound idea." Gables was getting very tired of Alfred's obstinacy.

"Alas, Gables, I am sorry that you do not see this my way. While I tried very hard to convince the four of you to accept my sentiments," and here Alfred stared at each one of them in turn as he spoke, "I am sorry to say that I must _insist_ on your agreement. I am, after all, the head of Umbrella, and therefore my ideas carry more weight than yours. Order all of your scientists to begin work on new Bio-Organic Weapons. I want five new models within the new year." While he was speaking, he wore a condescending smile and spoke in a pompous tone that infuriated his colleagues.

"Now see here, Alfred," cried Beaumont, jumping to his feet. "This is a council. Just because you lead Umbrella does not mean you lead White Umbrella! We must have a unanimous decision, or nothing gets accomplished. And as of right now, we make up the majority."

"No, _you_ see here, gentlemen," stated Alfred. "You will do as I say, or I will have you all removed from office. Being here is not a right; it is a privilege, which I alone grant you all. As I said before, this is a matter of principle. The principle is that my decisions are worth more than all of yours. Now, I expect the proper orders given, and we will discuss this matter at another time. Right now, Alexia is expecting my return to Rockfort, and I do not like to keep her waiting. Good day." And with that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the room.

For the next few minutes, Gables, Franklin, Magnus, and Beaumont could only stare in shock at the closed door of the office, where Alfred had passed through. It was Franklin who finally broke the silence.

"We must get rid of him," he asserted forcefully. "For the past eighteen years, ever since he gained access to the Board, he has done nothing but contradict us. The sole reason why he was brought here anyway was because he was an Ashford. This cannot be allowed to go on."

"I agree," sighed Gables, "but what do you propose to do about it? He is the director of Umbrella. The top workers support him because of his family's legacy with this company."

"Or do they?" questioned Franklin in a sly tone. "They may not show any opposition to him, but that does not mean that they support him. I suggest a coup d'état of sorts. We explain to him that he must stop challenging our collective authority. If he refuses our offer or threatens us in any way, we dispose of him and take over Umbrella, along with White Umbrella."

After pondering this idea, Beaumont, still holding his chin in deep thought, said, "I think we all agree for the need to take action against Alfred and his unwarranted flexes of power. However, we cannot do something so drastic. The consequences would be dire for the company. I suggest making him the offer you said, Franklin, on the grounds that we will split from him if he refuses to grant us equal power. If we split, we would probably retain control over the North American facilities because our headquarters is here, while Alfred's, and Umbrella's, is in Paris."

"Ah, parting ways with Alfred does have appeal." Gables paused as he stared into space. "However, I think that we must…."

And so the four gentlemen plotted into the night; first, how he could redeem himself in their eyes, and then what they would do if he refused, which was the likeliest outcome for the situation.

Kompressor


	2. II

A/n: Hopefully this chapter will interest all of you more than the first one did. It kinda explains how the whole Spencer mansion started. Again, if you could leave a review with either positive or negative feedback, I would greatly appreciate it. Oh, and importantly, when you see a row of 000, it means that there is a change in point of view, but the context time is the same. Hope you enjoy.

_Chapter 2_

Context Time: Beginning of Spencer Mansion Incident; Location: Raccoon City; Spencer Mansion; Hour: 0412

"Hey man, make sure you close the cage as tight as it goes on your way out," called Dr. Adam Shapiro as he was heading out of one of the larger labs underneath the Spencer estate to get to his bedroom up in the estate itself. He and his partner Ben Rodgers had been up late observing the feeding habits of the Hunter 121 series, and Adam was feeling the stress of staying up until 4:15 in the morning.

"Don't worry about it, buddy. I don't want these guys escaping any more than you do," replied Ben. Although he was expecting an answer from his long-time friend and partner, all he got was a loud, long yawn. "Just be well rested for tomorrow, because I want to send in those reports to the bosses as soon as possible. They might finally give me that raise I've been begging them for."

"Whatever," was all Adam could say. He was truly tired, so tired that the unwritten laws of common courtesy no longer applied to him. He waved to his still-working partner as he boarded the elevator. Yawning again, he leaned back into a corner of the elevator and sat on the rail there, just like he used to do when he was younger. He knew the elevator ride from subbasement five up to the estate's sprawling backyard was a long one, so he began to ponder the near future.

_If Ben gets that raise, I'm definitely gonna ask for one myself. After all, I've been in this department longer than he has, so it's only fair that I get paid more…_

Yawning for a third time, he stepped out of the elevator into the cool air. Adam took a second to look at the property. No fences ran along the grounds in order to maintain the appearance that the mansion was unoccupied and therefore unconcerned about trespassers. It must have been near dawn, because the sky was slightly pink in the west. Adam trudged up the stone path to the house itself, where a guard, who looked just as tired as Adam himself, got up from his seat to check Adam's I.D. After the guard nodded permission for Adam to enter the mansion, he quickly scrambled up the large stone staircase, jumped into his bed, and fell asleep without even removing his shoes.

0 0 0 0 0

Meanwhile, back in the lab, Ben was also feeling drowsy. He watched from the observation deck as the Hunter ate the last piece of meat from the skeleton lying on the floor in front of it. Half an hour ago, that skeleton was a living, breathing bull, but now it was little more than a heap of broken, glistening white bones and puddles of dark red blood. Letting out a satisfied growl, the Hunter 121 looked up to Ben from the feeding pit it was in, signifying that it was done.

The structure of this particular lab was a little different than normal. It was a large, tall room that was circular in shape and consisted of a large, metal floor, which was where the Hunter and the skeleton were now. There were six thick steel doors in proportionate intervals surrounding the main floor. Five of these doors led to the Hunter's cages, which each held up to ten Hunter 121s, and the sixth door led into the rest of the labs, and was the only was out of this particular lab and back to the mansion. A balcony ran around the top of the room, with a railing in place to prevent careless scientists from falling onto the floor, which was twenty feet below the balcony to provide safety from the specimens. The only way up to the balcony was through an elevator, which led down to the main floor. Of course, the Hunters would be put into their cages before anyone went down there. On a control panel next to the elevator were eight switches. Six opened a respective door down on the main floor; only one was needed to operate the elevator, because it could only go down to the main floor; and the last one electrified the floor in case the Hunters didn't want to go back into their cages.

Ben went to this control panel and pressed the button that opened up the Hunter's cage. The seven other Hunters in the cage looked toward the opening door as the Hunter that just finished eating began to enter. The Hunters were fed at separate times so that they wouldn't hurt each other by fighting for the food. It did minimize their injuries, but was very time-consuming for the researchers. As soon as the door finished opening, three defiant ones ran out onto the main floor. Sighing, Ben hit the floor electrification button. The three Hunters on the floor began yelping in pain and ran back into the cage to nurture their burned legs. Letting out a snort of contempt, Ben turned off the electrification switch as pressed the button for the elevator.

He stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the bottom floor. He knew he should sterilize the bull's remains, but then he thought of how tired he was and how the sanitation crew would take care of it in the morning. The elevator went down the single flight and opened. Ben was in mid-stretch as he realized his fatal error. After he turned off the floor electrification, he hadn't closed the Hunter's cage! Gulping, he turned to look at the single open cage across the room, and the Hunters, on hearing the descending elevator, glared back at him. Neither Ben nor the Hunters moved.

_Slow, gotta take it slow_, thought Ben. His plan was to step backward into the elevator and go back up to the balcony, where he could close the cage. As he took his first step backward, he heard a _ding_ from the elevator, signifying that it closed. With its departure, all of Ben's hopes departed as well.

Immediately the seven Hunters in the cage plus the one that had been eating began running towards him. Screaming for all his life, he ran towards the door that led out of the room and into the rest of the labs. He could the Hunters in the four locked cages banging on the doors because of all of the excitement. Fumbling with his keycard, Ben finally got enough control over his fingers to fit the card into the slot and punch in his clearance code. The door slid out from its place in the wall painfully slowly. This was a precaution so that if a scientist opened the doors too early, he would be able to close them before any specimens escaped. A glance behind him revealed that the Hunters were now only fifteen or so feet away from him.

When the door was open wide enough for him to squeeze through, he did so. He paused to look behind him again to see where the Hunters were. It was a grave mistake. A huge green claw shot out from between the opening door and the wall and raked bloody furrows across the right side of his chest. Coughing up blood and gasping for air, Ben half-stumbled, half-ran into the hallway, hoping to get aboveground and alert the guards.

As he kept running, he finally heard the Hunters get out from behind the door. They each let out a rasping scream, and then they set out to do what they did best, which was what they were named for: hunt…

…for him.

Thinking of the quickest way out, Ben ran to the T-Virus storage bay. In essence, it was just a big room, with only one door in, and the only elevator up to the surface. Also, there was a phone in there, in case of an emergency; specifically, a T-Virus leak. His plan was to run in, lock the door, call up for guards, and ride up to the surface.

He heard rapid, multiple clicking noises behind him, which were growing louder by the second. He knew that this sound was a Hunter 121 running on all four limbs, which gave it extra speed. Hunters were a strange breed. They each hunted alone, and if another Hunter came to its aid or tried to take some of its glory, they would attack each other. The good news was that there was only one Hunter on his tail.

The bad news was that there was a Hunter on his tail. There wasn't much of a difference between the good and the bad.

Finally, Ben came to the doors he was looking for. His momentum didn't allow him to stop, and Ben went crashing right into the closed doors. Clutching his already bleeding chest, Ben opened the door and hopped inside, slamming it shut right behind him and securing the deadbolt. Breathing a sigh of relief, he started for the emergency phone at the far end of the room. To his horror, the muffled cries of the Hunter on the other side of the door were attracting the rest of them. He could only hope that they would kill each other outside. The next noise that he heard dashed all of those hopes to pieces.

They were banging on the door, trying to get in. The scary part was that he heard the door cracking under the might of their combined blows. He made up his mind not to call the surface, just to get up there and tell them himself. He quickly searched his pockets for the key necessary to make the elevator. He started to panic when he realized he didn't have it on him, and so he looked around the room to see if he had dropped it. There it was, right next to the door.

That's when his frightened eyes saw what had happened to the door. Huge dents were all over it from where the Hunters had been battering at it. Then, as he was taking all of the information in, the metal door shattered, and eight Hunters came pouring into the room. Screaming, and therefore alerting them to his presence, he tried to hide behind one of the vats filled with the T-Virus. The closest Hunter came and batted at it with one of its giant claws, breaking it on impact. This filled Ben with a new fear.

Brown-tinged air was leaking out of the vat into the room. Because the T-Virus had never been tested on humans before, Ben didn't want to be infected with it and die a death possibly worse than the Hunters. Ducking out from behind the vat, he ran to the telephone, hoping to call for help. Another Hunter, seeing him through the slight haze of the T-Virus, made its way towards him, swinging its claws in preparation for his death. As it passed by another vat, its claws accidentally slammed into it, causing it both surprise and pain. As it cradled its bleeding claw, Ben was able to pick up the phone, which directly connected him to the supervisor of the mansion, Daniel Griffith.

"Hello?!" Because this line was for emergencies only, Griffith's voice was alert and loud.

"Daniel, it's Dr. Rodgers. Help me! Please, I'm stuck in the T-Virus storehouse, and eight Hunters are chasing me and there's a T-Virus leak, it's small, but still, it's leaking and I'm-" He couldn't finish his sentence, because at that moment, a Hunter brought its claws down on him, severing the phone line and silencing Dr. Ben Rodgers forever.

0 0 0 0 0

So, there was a T-Virus leak. This definitely depressed Daniel Griffith. Because he was in charge of the Spencer estate labs, he, and only he, was given all of the safety and emergency protocol orders, directly from the White Umbrella Board, themselves. He knew now that the labs were to be sealed, and no one could enter or leave the mansion.

What depressed him the most was his imminent death. The most important of the orders that was given to him was that if there was a spill or escape, Daniel should alert White Umbrella, and then call every few hours for an update and observations about whatever had happened. It was meant to be a risk-free research project for the brass, while everyone in here died to prevent the release of the virus.

In Daniel's opinion, this should never have happened. Although he was prepared to accept death in the name of science, he felt that it wasn't necessary in this instance. The spill was in the lab, so it should have been safe for all those above ground to leave to somewhere safe. However, the builders of this facility were smarter than that. The ventilation system for the labs worked in an exchange system, which constantly circulated air between the labs and the mansion, meaning that the contaminated air was bleeding to the mansion, even as he was sitting there.

On the other hand, possibly nothing would happen. The virus was not meant for humans, so maybe the only thing that would happen is that the men got coughs or allergies or something like that. Daniel could only hope…

He picked up the private phone to the right of his desk. It immediately connected him to the secretary of the White Umbrella Board. "Hello, this is Daniel Griffith, Head of Affairs in the Spencer Estate Labs in Raccoon City. I need to speak to the Board immediately."

"I'm sorry, but they won't be in for another 45 minutes," said the secretary. Damn! He had forgotten about the time-zone difference between Cleveland and Raccoon.

"This is a Class-1 emergency," explained Daniel, in a fast tone. "It's really a matter of life-or-death. Please have them respond as soon as they get in."

The secretary, on hearing the problem, began to act more seriously. "Don't worry, you'll get a response as soon as they arrive."

Daniel hung up as soon as she said this. Breathing heavily, he got up from his desk to begin to issue orders to the crew. He knew the deal: order the guards not to let anyone leave under any circumstances, rip out all of the phones except for the one in his office, and have all of the people in the facility put on a hazmat suit to avoid infection. But, unbeknownst to him, it was already too late. He didn't see the slightly brown air leak into the house from the vents…

0 0 0 0 0

End notes: So now we come to the traditional Resident Evil storylines. Also, sorry about the whole crappy 00000 thing, the stupid document manager wouldn't read any symbols. Until next time.

Kompressor


	3. III

_Chapter 3_

Context Time: Beginning of Spencer Mansion Incident; Location: Cleveland, Ohio; Headquarters of White Umbrella; Hour: 0530

Gables, Franklin, Magnus, and Beaumont had just seated themselves at the large round table in the room, when their secretary came bursting in through the heavy French doors.

"Sirs," she began in a panicked tone, "we have a Class-1 emergency in the Spencer mansion labs in Raccoon. We have just received the call from the Head of Affairs there, Daniel Griffith."

The four gentlemen exchanged surprised glances, while dismissing the secretary. This was a serious matter, indeed. Gables spoke first.

"Of course, Griffith must know the protocols. They are drilled into all lab overseers." It was more like he was thinking aloud than actually addressing anyone. Another few minutes passed before Gables picked up the phone and pressed the single button that connected him to the Spencer labs.

Of course, it was Daniel who picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"You are in the middle of a Class-1 emergency. Explain," commanded Gables. He was in no mood to mess around. He wanted to be as concise as possible in order to gain more time to remedy the situation.

"Uhh, about an hour ago I received a call from a scientist still in the lab. He said that eight Hunter 121s were loose and that the T-Virus was leaking, although the leak was small-"

"There is no such thing as a 'small' leak, Griffith," reprimanded Gables.

"Right, sorry sir," apologized Griffith. "Anyway, because the lab and the mansion share a common air filtration system, I am under the assumption that the virus is leaking into the house. All phones have been taken out, the workers are all in hazmat suits, and the guards have been told to let no one leave. In an hour, I am personally going to lead a team down into the lab to fully assess the situation and possibly recapture the freed Hunters."

"As you are aware, Griffith, you probably will not walk away from this situation with your life. Even if you survive the Hunters, the virus may kill you," Gables told him.

There was a pause. "I know, sir. I knew that when I first signed up for this position."

"You are a brave man, Griffith. I am sorry for your position." Actually, he didn't care if the man died or not, what he really cared about was the loss of the virus and possibly the loss of eight Hunter 121s. "Now, you must know what to do. Call here every twelve hours with updates on the situation of your men and the containment of the virus. Keep everyone under close surveillance, and if anything out of the ordinary happens, let me know immediately." After relaying these instructions to Griffith, Gables hung up the phone.

Magnus spoke up. "How bad is it?"

Gables sighed. "Well, now we are going to get first-hand information on the T-Virus' effect on humans." After another long pause between the four men, Gables added, "The information about this crisis must not leave this room. Simply, no one tell Alfred Ashford."

0 0 0 0 0

Context Time: Beginning of Spencer Mansion Incident; Location: Raccoon City; Spencer Mansion; Hour: 1845

Adam Shapiro was so tired. It had been a few days after he found out about the spill…and Ben's death. Many of the scientists had been sent to the sick bay, and many others were already dead. Adam himself felt like dying. His skin always itched, and was flaking terribly. Internally, he just felt terrible. There were no words for it. It seemed as though everyone in the mansion had the same symptoms. Now he knew why the virus was never used on humans.

He was slowly walking through the labs. The Hunters had been successfully returned to their cages, but other creatures had broken free. For instance, the shark had broken out of its cage, as had the arachnids and snakes. What was next, the Chimaeras and Plant 42? Adam sighed.

Turning the corner, he saw two scientists kneeling on the ground, with many scattered papers around them. Adam assumed that they had carelessly bumped into each other and were now picking up their papers. He was about to keep walking until he heard a soft moan.

"Uuuhhhhnnn..."

Frozen with fear, Adam turned to face the two scientists. From this angle, Adam could see what they were doing. They weren't picking up papers, they were _eating_ a body that was on the ground, a fellow scientist. Adam watched as one of the crouching figures rose and stumbled towards him. Adam gasped when he saw the condition of the figure.

The scientist's skin was a steel gray color, and his eyes were a contrastingly stark white. The flaking of the skin was so bad that Adam could actually see red muscle and white bone underneath. Its hair was falling out, and it walked with a heavy limp because of its missing left foot. Adam could see it lying off to the side of the corridor. Also, there was blood on seemingly every visible portion of its body. Behind the shambling scientist, the other crouching one rose and shuffled toward Adam. What was even scarier was that the body they were eating twitched and jerked, and then flipped itself onto its stomach and started crawling toward Adam.

This made Adam scream and turn around. Just as he was going to begin running, he saw a fourth figure stumble out from the T-Virus storage bay. Squinting, he saw that the figure had a set of five bloody furrows across the right side of his chest, and another set running from his neck to his stomach. On closer observation, he recognized the figure as…

"…Ben?" he questioned weakly. He could only stare in horror as Ben, or what was left of him, came too close and sank his teeth into Adam's neck. Screaming more out fear than pain, Adam backed up, only to land right into the arms of the scientist with the missing foot.

Adam's screams were drowned out by the hungry moans of the once-humans as they munched on him. Finally, his screaming stopped altogether, and the four scientists left his crumpled body there, searching for a new meal.

About a minute later, Adam's corpse got up, too.

0 0 0 0 0

Daniel Griffith scratched at his peeling skin. So _that's_ what happened to infected humans. They became zombies. Daniel had locked himself into his room when he was attacked by a large group of seven zombies. He knew he was going to die, but he didn't want a painful death by being eaten alive. He'd rather just sit here and slowly rot away, literally.

He had just placed a call to the White Umbrella Board, and this time he spoke to Beaumont. When he told Beaumont what happened to infected people, Beaumont had put a man named William Birkin, who supposedly invented the T-Virus, on the phone. Birkin asked him all kinds of scientific questions and wanted to know about every detail of the zombies. This was because Birkin was in the process of developing a new "G-Virus," and didn't want the same effects that the T-Virus had on humans.

Daniel had told him everything he needed to know, and then asked if there was any hope for his or any others' survival. Beaumont came back on the phone and told him that there was a cure, and that he would send in a large group of the U.B.C.S., or Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service, to help the victims. Of course, Beaumont did have an antivirus, but he would never give it to them, but he just wanted to appease Daniel somewhat.

But something in Beaumont's voice betrayed the fact that he was lying to Daniel, so Daniel didn't tell him a disturbing bit of information. Because of the lack of fencing around the grounds of the Spencer estate, some of the already zombified workers and some zombie Cerberus K-9 units had escaped into the surrounding woods a few days ago. Although Daniel didn't want any innocent people in nearby Raccoon or Arklay to get hurt, he did want to punish Beaumont for lying to him, so he didn't mention the subject.

Now, Daniel was just sitting on his bed, feeling worse and worse every second. Suddenly, his body started convulsing. Then an idea struck him. Maybe someone on the Board knew of a way to stall the effects of the virus. That way, he could retain his humanity when, or if, the U.B.C.S. arrived.

With his still-shaking hands, he put the phone to his ear. Someone from the Board picked up, but Daniel couldn't discern who it was. All he could think about was how hungry he was.

"Hello?!" questioned the voice on the other end.

Daniel replied in the only way he knew how at the moment: a hungry wail. "Uuuuuhhhhh…" Then he dropped the phone, and began to aimlessly stumble around his room.

From the earpiece of the dropped phone, a voice could be heard saying, "No, they are all dead at the mansion."

0 0 0 0 0

"No, they are all dead at the mansion," Beaumont told the other three Board members. He hung up the phone. He inhaled deeply, and then exhaled slowly. "What do you propose that we do about it?"

Magnus had an immediate answer. "Send in Wesker and his branch of the S.T.A.R.S. We stationed him there for this exact reason: to keep an eye on the mansion and possibly act as a clean-up crew. Have Wesker recover a sample of the virus, make sure all the workers and specimens are locked up, and then have him destroy the mansion and labs."

The others nodded their approval of the plan. Gables then picked up the phone, and called the S.T.A.R.S. office in the RPD. While the phone was ringing, he looked at the others and told them, "Remember, not one word of this to Alfred." The others nodded again.

0 0 0 0 0

End notes: So what do you think? Chapter 4 is on the way.

Kompressor


	4. IV

A/n: More background information, mainly on Wesker. I tried to be as accurate as possible._  
_

_Chapter 4_

Context Time: The night that the S.T.A.R.S. Entered the Spencer Mansion; Location: Over the Atlantic Ocean; A Private Transatlantic Flight from Paris to New York; Hour: 1920

"So, White Umbrella has decided to send in the S.T.A.R.S. without Alfred's approval. Who is the Raccoon S.T.A.R.S.' leader again?" questioned an elderly man of his much younger adviser.

"Albert Wesker, sir," replied the adviser.

"Ahh, yes. Albert Wesker. I do believe that he is unhappy with the way the Board is running White Umbrella. I know for a fact he likes it better when he has to report to a single person, not a group of them. I do believe that this can be used against them...." The old, but by no means senile, man kept mumbling random facts until his adviser stopped him.

"Sir, what are you talking about?"

"I would expect you not to know," replied the aged man. "But I will explain it to you. About forty years ago, two families founded the Umbrella Pharmaceutical Corporation. This company served as a front for a different company, called White Umbrella. Two men, Alexander Ashford and Mark Spencer, controlled the legal side of Umbrella, while their children, Alfred and Alexia Ashford and Oswell Spencer, were put in charge of White Umbrella. Eventually, Mark Spencer died and the Ashford twins secretly turned their father into a monster. Then, Alexia injected herself with a virus and fell into a hibernation-like state, where she still is. Oswell disappeared, and Alfred took control over Umbrella and White Umbrella. But, because most top scientists thought that he was crazy and unfit to lead them, so he created a Board of Directors, of which he was a part, to lead White Umbrella. Now, what I was getting at was that Albert Wesker has been with this company for about ten years, and he doesn't like the Board or Alfred. Which means that I can count on his support when I go to reclaim my place at the head of Umbrella and kill that bastard Alfred."

"Do you want me to contact Wesker for you?" asked the adviser.

"Yes. Tell him to get away from the S.T.A.R.S. after he finishes 'cleaning up' the mansion and come to New York City," ordered the man.

"One thing bothers me about the story you told me, sir," said the adviser. "You said that Oswell Spencer disappeared, but…."

"Yes, he disappeared under threat from Alfred. But now I'm returning to show him who really deserves Umbrella," said the old man, Oswell Spencer, menacingly. "But really, it is a pity. My house is about to be destroyed."

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Context Time: Directly after the Spencer Mansion Incident; Location: Raccoon City; Forest on Outskirts of the City; Hour: 0650

_Fuck them all_, thought Wesker. _Fuck each and every one of them. Especially Redfield_.

While thinking these thoughts, Wesker was stumbling through the woods, putting distance between himself and the Spencer Mansion and Raccoon City. He was bleeding heavily from his left side, where the Tyrant had stabbed him, and he had a concussion. But still, onward he pushed, a grim determination set in his mind. His plan was to get to a motel in Arklay and clean himself up, while treating his wounds as best as he could. Then, it was on to New York City, where he would be meeting with Oswell Spencer.

Actually, as he thought about it, he began to think that Oswell was a terrible strategist. Instead of fighting with Alfred over the joint control of Umbrella all those years ago, Oswell had just run away. Now, years later, he was returning to either share control of the company with Alfred or forcibly take it from him. Wesker thought that it was a stupid, terrible plan. Why had he run away in the first place? Because he was a coward, and Wesker was convinced that he still was a coward.

On the other hand, Wesker thought that Oswell was the best man to be in control of the large international company. Alfred was just plain nuts, his bitch sister was still hibernating, and the Board of White Umbrella was nothing but a bunch of rich men who were too proud to lift a pencil, no less make important decisions. Wesker had no doubt that Oswell was the most capable performer out of them all.

However, Wesker thought that there was someone who was better than them all to rule the company, and that was Wesker himself.

_Thank God I made it out of this alive. Now, when I get to Spencer, we can get rid of both that bastard Alfred and that Board of Idiots of White Umbrella. Then, I can easily eighty-six that antique Spencer and take my place at the head of both Umbrella and White Umbrella._

Wesker was a happy man indeed as he stumbled away from the burning wreckage of the Spencer estate and the nightmares it had caused.

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Context Time: Shortly After Wesker's Escape from the Mansion; Location: Unknown; Oswell Spencer's Private Hospital/Research Lab; Hour: 1856

Wesker couldn't recall even a shred of his good mood from earlier in the day. He screamed again, a low, baritone sound that reverberated around the cramped, sterile room as another syringe was jabbed somewhere into his body. He couldn't even tell where the needle pierced his skin, he just knew that his whole body hurt, and he began to thrash around despite the restraining straps bolting him to the bed.

"Relax, relax, Wesker," he could hear Oswell Spencer saying. _Relax, you mother fucker!!! _Wesker mentally shouted at the older man. _This is more pain than you will ever know, and you're telling me to RELAX!!!_ Wesker could only grit his teeth and seethe at the old man and the doctors working on him.

What had happened to Wesker since he fled from the mansion was a simple story. Unable to treat his wounds on his own, Wesker hitched a ride to New York City, where he met Oswell Spencer in a very inconspicuous location: the top of the Statue of Liberty. Wesker related what had happened in the mansion to Spencer, and ended it by fainting from blood loss exactly when he told Spencer about him getting stabbed by the Tyrant.

When Wesker had woken up, he was strapped to the hospital table that he was now on, with both of his wrists cut open and various parts of his inner body exposed. It was at the moment when he saw Spencer leaning over him with an interested look on his face that Wesker first felt the pain. Throughout his intermittent screams, Wesker listened to Spencer telling him what was happening to him. In order to heal him from the Tyrant's wound, Spencer initiated his test program, which basically would turn Wesker into a Tyrant. He would have all of the benefits that Tyrants enjoy, such as increased strength, vision, hearing, and agility, but he would be able to retain his outward appearance.

Actually, no matter how much it hurt, Wesker appreciated what Spencer was doing to him.

"Okay," the doctor cooed to Wesker. "The work on your body is finished. We just need to amplify your sense of sight, and you'll be finished."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Wesker whispered. He found it immensely hard to summon the strength to speak at the moment, and his throat was raw from his screams. "What are you gonna do, put in contact lenses or something like that?"

"No, no, Mr. Wesker," the doctor corrected, as though he were speaking to a child. He lifted two small, white orbs from a table next to him. "In order for your brain to accept the new images it will be receiving, we will need to replace your eyes." He held out the two orbs, which were actually slitted reptilian eyes, complete with red arteries and blue veins hanging out from the back.

"Wha…? NOOOOOOO!!!" Wesker screamed out, just before the mask supplying the anesthesia was placed over his nose and mouth. He breathed deeply, the soothing gas entering his lungs, and all of his worries disappeared, along with his consciousness.

Sighing, the doctor removed the mask from Wesker's face once he was sure that he was asleep. Then he gouged out his eyes.

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Chapter 5 is on the way. Hope you are enjoying the story; let me know if there's anything I can do to improve.

Kompressor


	5. V

Ah, sorry it took me so long to update. Please let me know if I have lost my touch; that is, if it was ever there in the first place..._  
_

_Chapter 5_

Context Time: A Little While After the Spencer Mansion Incident; Location: Somewhere off the coast of South America; Alfred's Private Mansion on Rockfort Island; Hour: 1632

Alfred sighed as he rubbed his temples. Really, his beloved company was going through a rough stretch. It might have looked to the public that all was going well, but a select few knew otherwise. Alfred had just returned from Cleveland, where he had had another argument with the Board of Directors of White Umbrella. The topic was insignificant, something about whether to initiate tests of the T-Virus on humans, which Alfred had adamantly opposed. The fact was that the others had once again banded against him, and Alfred had the feeling that they knew something that he didn't. That in itself was unnerving.

Absentmindedly running a hand through his slick blonde hair, Alfred rose from the plush leather seat in his bedroom, where he often came to think, in order to go to the Infirmary. He had suffered silently for too much time; he wanted to see someone else, a prisoner, in pain as well.

Walking through his arched doorway, he stepped into the grand foyer of his mansion, listening to the soft scrape of the thick red carpet underneath his boot heels. Turning left into the entrance hall, he surveyed his twenty-foot high oak front doors before opening them. They were French-style doors, each one opening in an opposite direction. As he let go of the solid gold doorknobs and looked up, he found himself staring a man straight in the eyes. A man he though he would never see again.

"Hello, Alfred," said Oswell Spencer, with a mischievous grin on his wrinkled face.

Landing his helicopter on Rockfort undetected was easier than he thought. Oswell had just told his pilot to land in a small cove on the south shore of the island and to keep the copter running just in case he needed to make a quick getaway. After departing from the copter, Oswell had walked the island out in the open because no one seemed to know who he was.

_That will change soon, if all goes according to plan_, Oswell thought darkly.

Ironically, he was just about to knock politely on the door when, as luck would have it, Alfred swung them open like he was someone worthy of praise and attention. Oswell sensed that Alfred had a lot of things on his mind, because his entire manner was detached, and he was staring at the floor. When Alfred looked up and met Oswell's eyes, a look of complete surprise, mixed with a little horror, flooded his face.

"Hello, Alfred," Oswell said smoothly, and smiled a little to make Alfred more nervous. "Long time no see, no?"

The momentary feeling of surprise that Alfred had displayed was immediately replaced with an expression of arrogance. "Not long enough, Oswell," Alfred sneered. "It is a pity; you are not dead like I have been imagining. What brings you to my humble abode without an invitation?"

"I was in the neighborhood. And, as I assume you know, I have some _very_ pressing issues to discuss with you," Oswell said casually, knowing that Alfred's display of superiority was nothing but false bravado.

"Come," Alfred said, beckoning Oswell to follow him with a wave of his hand. He led Oswell back through the French doors into a study in the north wing of the house. The room consisted of a marble center table with the Ashford name engraved in the middle and a row of media devices on the far wall.

Making himself at home, Oswell plopped into a chair at the far end of the room, just to make it inconvenient for Alfred to have to walk all the way across the room. Alfred, with his back to Spencer, quietly shut the single door before turning around. Narrowing his eyes, he made his way to where Oswell was seated and sat directly across from him, folding his hands in front of him in a business-like manner.

"Whatever it is you must tell me, I implore you to do it quietly. My dear sister is taking a small nap in her room upstairs, and I have no desire to wake her up over whatever troubles we may encounter in this room," Alfred said in a tone that was just above a whisper. Startled by this sudden act of semi-kindness, Oswell merely nodded, although he knew that Alexia was actually in stasis on Antarctica. He said nothing of this. "Now, what nonsense do you wish to tell me?"

All good feeling that Oswell felt for Alfred suddenly vanished. "I want to reopen the discussion that we had twenty years ago," Oswell started. "This company is as much mine as it is yours. I have come to reclaim my half of the company, either with your backing or without it."

Alfred said nothing for a few minutes, as though he was pondering this deeply. Oswell knew otherwise, because Alfred's face showed nothing but anger and insanity: a terrible combination.

"Tell me this, Spencer," Alfred muttered. "Why have you waited twenty years to have this conversation? We could have worked something out all those years ago when you went into hiding. What the hell have you been doing?"

"It seems your memory, is off, Alfred," Oswell said lazily, using Alfred's first name as an insult. "Let me offer you a refresher. You chased me away because you wanted the company all to yourself. Stupidly, I, like a coward, hid in Europe. The reason I am coming back now is because now I have the resources to forcefully take my position from you, if necessary."

Alfred's eyes widened. "You are positively mad! Take away all of my hard work from me? I will not allow it," declared Alfred, jumping to his feet and slamming his clenched fists onto the tabletop. "Besides, you do not have as large a claim to this company as I do. Your family was not actually needed to start this company; they were just there as potential scapegoats in case anything went wrong."

Oswell leaped to his feet as well. "How dare you say such things! I now see that coming here was a mistake. I will make my offer very clear to you: either I get ownership of half of both Umbrella Pharmaceuticals and White Umbrella, or I create a new company using your labs, scientists, and other assets."

"Ha!" Alfred was on the verge of laughter. "My men are all loyal to me. And even though the Board of White Umbrella and I have had our disagreements, they would never accept a new member in their little circle without my authorization. I suggest that you go back to hiding in Europe or wherever in God's name you were."

"Really, that's rather sad," Oswell retorted, with a slight shake of his head. "You claim that your men are loyal to you. Tell me, Alfred, what happened at my estate in Raccoon?"

"What are you talking about? Nothing unusual is happening at your old estate. All T-Virus production is running as smoothly as ever and the specimens are being kept in perfect condition. What could possibly be wrong?" questioned Alfred, more to himself than to Oswell.

"You do not keep up with current events, do you, you silly little man? The phrase 'cannibal murders' does not ring a bell? How about the explosion in the Arklay Mountains, where my old house was located? And the S.T.A.R.S. suspension, and Wesker's disappearance?" With each question, Oswell spoke faster and louder until he was almost shouting. "You really do not know about all that! And why don't you know? Because those Board Members, who are supposedly loyal to you, have kept it from you!" By this time, Oswell was breathing heavily.

Alfred just surveyed him with cold eyes. "You are getting senile in your old age, Spencer. Besides, I do not get small-scale American news here on Rockfort."

Regaining his composure, Oswell drew an envelope from his inner jacket pocket. "Very well. Here is all the evidence you will need to see the truth to this event." He threw the envelope in front of Alfred, and both men seated themselves once again. Alfred opened the envelope and dumped the contents onto the table.

The envelope consisted of various newspaper clippings in a more or less chronological order. Alfred picked up the first article and read random parts of it aloud: "Murdered in the woods…partially eaten…another three victims found…decayed skin found on the bodies…citywide curfew in place…. What does this have to do with you, me, the Board, or our lives, Spencer?"

"Keep reading," Oswell commanded.

"Special Tactics and Rescue Squad will be sent into the outlying forests in one week to search for signs of the cannibal killers and supposed monsters loose in the woods…Albert Wesker is the newly-promoted leader of the S.T.A.R.S…. explosion in the woods…Umbrella donated money to the city council to help clean up the forest due to the explosion at their unused mansion at the hands of the S.T.A.R.S…. When the hell did all this happen?" Alfred asked as he looked up from his reading.

"About a week ago," answered Oswell. "People were being slain and devoured by who-knows-what in the woods. The Board decided to send in Wesker and his squad to solve the problem. It was found out by your own men that there was a T-Virus leak in the labs underneath my estate, and that the T-Virus has an interesting side-effect on humans: it decays their skin while killing most of their brain cells, effectively turning them into zombies. The Board sent in the S.T.A.R.S. to contain the problem, but unfortunately your operative, Albert Wesker, was killed in the mansion and the surviving S.T.A.R.S. members discovered what research was being conducted there. They tried to go public with it, but of course no one believed them, and so they went into hiding."

Alfred could not believe his ears. "My own trusted advisers kept this from me…," he seemed to be in a state of shock. He finally came to his senses. "This will not go unpunished. I am going to Cleveland to get rid of them immediately, and I will finally be in complete control of the company." He stood up then and turned to go, forgetting that Oswell was there.

"Alfred," called Oswell. "You forget one thing: You will not be in complete control of the company, because I am here as well. We can own Umbrella jointly, and I will help you take care of your problems with the Board."

"Over my dead body," Alfred scoffed. "The company is mine, and that is final."

"I was hoping it would not come to this, but if I must do it, I will. Alfred, I am taking my half of Umbrella away from you. I am splitting the company," Oswell declared. "But don't fret, I will keep this out of the media in order to keep up the appearance of a unified front to our investors and competitors."

Alfred's whole body froze. "No one in my company will work under you," Alfred said meekly, as though trying to convince himself as much as Oswell.

"Remember how I said I now have the resources to do this? The Board is not the only mutinous faction, so to speak. The entire European section of Umbrella is unhappy with your leadership, and I have rallied them all under me. Even the Paris Headquarters," Oswell said this last sentence slowly, as if savoring it.

"I do not believe you. Go, go as far away from here as you can, and never return. You are not wanted here," Alfred ordered. "As soon as I am done purging the Board, I will come to Europe to reclaim the rogue labs."

Oswell was halfway to the door when he turned around. "Good luck. As I have said, I am in control over the Paris HQ. Technically, I am in control of the whole company. Try getting _that_ back from me." And then Oswell was out of the door and on his way back to his helicopter as fast as he could walk.

_Well, that wasn't as bad as I thought it would be_, he thought. He boarded his hidden helicopter, and departed from Rockfort.

After Oswell had left, Alfred could only stand in shock and ponder what he had just heard. His royal blue jacket was still slung over his right shoulder only, because he had frozen when Oswell had broken up the company. A cold fist closed itself over Alfred's brain.

_Damn it! First the Board, then Spencer returns, bringing me news of the S.T.A.R.S. mishap, the European mutiny, AND his breakup of MY company! Can this day get any better!_ Alfred's thoughts came in angry bursts.

Umbrella had labs on every continent. The problem was that White Umbrella only had limited labs in Europe, North Africa, Southeast Asia, Midwestern United States, Antarctica, and South America. With Oswell in control of the European labs, and especially the Paris HQ, he was in the position to take more away from Alfred.

_That's okay_, thought Alfred. _The Paris HQ may be the public HQ of Umbrella, but I still control Rockfort, and I am about to have total control of the White Umbrella HQ in Cleveland. With these two important locations, I can move to take back the European labs and Paris._

With these hopeful thoughts, Alfred finished putting on his jacket, and then walked to Rockfort's private airstrip. There, he was greeted by one of his five personal pilots.

"Take me to Cleveland, pilot," Alfred directed before boarding his Cessna light aircraft.

00000

I plan on finishing this story, eventually, so expect another chapter sometime soon. And I actually mean soon, this time. As always, reviews are wanted. I'm out.

Kompressor


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